The Rules of Survival
by LoveToday15
Summary: Isabella's sole life purpose in New Orleans is to survive—only for her siblings. It's dangerous living in a town where witches are hunted and oppressed, and she knows that more than most. When a certain Hybrid becomes interested in her, it only brings more attention and soon enough Marcel picks up on what she's hiding. Full Summary Inside
1. Chapter 1

Isabella's sole life purpose in New Orleans is to survive—only for her siblings. It's dangerous living in a town where witches are hunted and oppressed, and she knows that more than most.

When a certain Hybrid becomes interested in her, it only brings more attention and soon enough Marcel picks up on what she's hiding. It's up to her to save her brothers and sister from the same path she's heading down, but with a vampire mother who's willing to stop any move you make, it's proving to be impossible—until Klaus goes against Marcel, and Isabella questions everything she's been living towards.

* * *

"Are you a witch?"

My life had transformed with that question.

I'd always lived in secret—which was almost impossible to do as a witch in a town where vampires ruled the city. But I had done it. I had done it for my family.

And yet he saw right through me.

"If you want me to read your horoscope," my words were shaky as I took a step back, trying to keep my gaze steady, "you're out of luck."

"I'm sure you know what I mean."

"What tipped you off? My clothes?" I put enough sarcasm in the question to make sure I didn't seem serious.

I hoped.

"I'm not threatening you."

I wondered what the Hybrid meant. Everyone in the city had been buzzing about the news that the Original was back, that he was going to make everything worse than it already was.

And yet here he stood, smiling and waiting for me to fess up that I was a witch, after I had lived my whole life in hiding.

Somehow, I still saw him as a threat.

"I don't know who you are," I began, glaring at him, "and I don't want to know either. So let me leave."

I could see the difference between him and Marcel. Marcel had an outside appearance that made people think they were at ease around him—but he was always threatening, always a hint away from using you to take advantage of you.

Klaus didn't have that ease. But he didn't have that threatening demeanour either.

Maybe that made him ultimately more dangerous.

"Walk on, little witch," he sighed, rolling his green eyes, and stepping away from my exit. I paused, tensed, waiting for some horrid feeling, like him snapping my neck or ripping my heart out.

He smiled.

I stumbled out the door.

I should have known it wouldn't end there.

* * *

My mom is a jewel collector.

Fancy, right? We must be so rich—but we're not.

We live in New Orleans—my mother, my younger sister and brother, and my older brother. Like most people in New Orleans, we came from a long line of witches. Only, no one else knew we were witches—mainly because of the fact that my ancestors had the privilege of being able to hide their powers, and that was a power in itself, which passed onto us.

That was, until my eldest brother died, and my mother lost it—her sanity, I should say, because it was definitely a crazy day for her, and for the rest of us.

She decided Marcel—the vampire who practically rules this city, didn't deserve to live, which was completely true, but the only issue with her judgement was that he found out how she felt, and what she was planning.

So he turned her into a vampire.

And now she's his lackey—travelling the world and collecting antiques and jewels for him while planning a bigger move against him.

And he knows that. He's letting her plan, because he's planning himself.

He wants to take down the witches, and he's going to use her to do it.

But I can't let that happen. Because it's not just me who's a witch, but also my younger siblings. Marcel would never let them live, no matter how innocent they are.

* * *

"What happened?" My brother rose from the couch. He wasn't much taller than me, at just 5 foot 9, and we could pass for twins at only a year difference between us. We had matching blue eyes and brown hair, as the only children of my mother's who had the same father.

"What do you mean?" I glanced around the room. My younger brother and sister, Daniel and Alina, were both asleep on the mattress, facing away from each other tangled up in the blanket. Oliver stared expectantly at me, but I saw a hint of alarm in his eyes. "Nothing," I said quickly, dumping my bag on the couch. Oliver narrowed his eyes.

"Something happened."

"Nope." I busied myself with taking out my purse when I realized something was missing.

My folder was gone. "Ah, great."

"What? What's going on, Isabella?"

"Nothing." I insisted, turning on him with a frown. "Stop your freaking out. I just forgot my folder at the restaurant."

"Something happened." He pressed. I let out a loud groan of defeat, turning away from him to go to the kitchen, adjusting my coat. The nights were still chilly, and I always had to wear stupid dresses when performing for the night. "When are you going to get your folder back?" Oliver asked, bending over to nudge the kids aside so he could lie down on the mattress.

His stare was frosty. He had could sense when someone was holding something back—like me, but he could actually sense when someone had negative feelings towards him, or positive, or so on. The only thing I could do was tell when someone was lying, that, and the same power all of us children and our bloodline had, the one that saved us for so long. We could all direct a person's emotions away from us.

I used it often, directing people's attention away from me, and suspicion and other things like that.

"I have to go get it now. I have to hand in my work tomorrow."

I worked around the city, singing at a jazz restaurant a few nights a week and occasionally, doing freelance work for the newspaper's special culture section, when we needed more money. Lately, in winter, that had been practically all the time with the heat turned up and the kids always losing their coats.

"I'll go out and get it." Oliver was already standing up, shrugging his coat on. He knew I could take care of myself, but he still didn't like me going out at night.

Night time was _their _time; the vampires.

"You can't." I moved past him to the door. "I don't want anyone to know we're related." I opened the door and grinned at him as I walked out, catching him roll his eyes as he shut the door. My reason was a good one; if that Hybrid was still at that restaurant, and Oliver walked in, he would see our resemblance and be reminded that he thought of me as a witch and he would start thinking we had a whole family of witches—

I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts as I hurried down the steps to our building. The restaurant was a good ten minutes' walk from here, and I kept my phone in my hand, scratching my neck when it felt like the shadows were moving too often.

"Isabella," Catelyn was surprised when I walked in again, frowning. "What's up?"

"Forgot my folder," I scanned the dark room, Nicole's singing voice drowning out the conversation, but she was glaring at me with daggers for eyes from the stage. I stared stonily back before resuming the search of my folder.

It was open in one of the booths on a table, and in front of it, a hand was turning the page. The Hybrid stared at the photo of the hummingbird I'd snapped, with the intention of handing it in for big money tomorrow at the office.

He pulled the photo from its sleeve, opened his jacket, and slid it into the pocket inside.

_Bastard!_ That photo had taken me almost an hour to edit!

Dismayed, I turned to Catelyn.

"Cate, could you get me my—"

"Be right back," She darted away, holding a tray of food in her hands. I almost stomped my foot in frustration and then I marched over to where he sat; now leaning forward to read one of the poems I had written.

I snatched the folder from beneath his eyes and snapped it shut. He slowly glanced up, annoyance written all over his features.

"Couldn't wait your turn, love?"

"It's mine." I snapped sharply. His eyes narrowed and my heart stopped, then pounded again. He could probably hear it. The thought had my heart beating harder.

He was going to turn me in, to Marcel. In a panic, I tuned up my power so high; aiming any emotion he had toward me anywhere else, anywhere but me—

"You write for the newspaper." He leaned forward, still staring unblinkingly. I lost my grip on my power in surprise.

"What?"

"You're the girl who writes for that culture section." He mused. "I'd always pictured some 70 year old hippy withering behind a desk."

Comparing me to an old lady did _not _sit well with me. I almost called him a bastard, before remembering the boy had daddy issues, and he'd probably snap my neck for mentioning anything to do with family. I let my stare go flat.

Well, that was my cue to leave. I turned away to walk off, but his arm shot out to grasp mine. I jolted back, moving away from him with a glare.

"Hang on a sec, sweetheart. I'm not following you around for no reason."

He stood, and he wasn't much taller than me, but he carried himself like he was ten feet tall. Wait—he was _following me?_

Before I could dwell on that thought, a white, shimmery envelope appeared in his hand, with my name on it in elegant script.

Only my first name. For a moment, there was relief—and then fear, and disbelief. I knew what was in that envelope. He handed me the envelope, forcing me to hold onto it since he still held my arm. He smirked.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love."

And he was gone.

* * *

The envelope was like a 10 pound weight in my hands as I walked home, holding my folder and staring at the elegant script of Marcel's over and over.

There was no greeting on the invitation inside—just my name, a date, time and place. No intro was needed anyways—I knew what it was, along with every other human and vampire in this city. There was no ending time; because everyone knew that for humans, the ending time could be never, or it could be very soon, depending on if you were turned into a vampire or killed that night.

There were also no dress requirements—but everyone knew it was dark, grunge, and flashy.

There was no RSVP; because you couldn't reject an invitation to Marcel's parties. Marcel didn't take rejection well; in fact, the man never allowed anyone to reject him, and he would always come find you later on. When the town's vampire requested your presence somewhere, he wasn't really _requesting. _It was more of an order, a do or die situation.

Which was why I'd have to tie up all my loose ends tonight.

* * *

It was a well-known rule that vervain was not allowed to be taken.

Marcel had a lot of rules. It's not like they were written in stone tablets and hung up in everyone's homes, but they might as well have been. Marcel had gone out of his way to make sure all the witches knew his rules

"I can't take this, Oliver." I hit him with the package he'd given me, knowing it contained vervain.

"There has to be something!" He turned and kicked over the lamp, and glass shattered, making the kids shudder and stare with wide eyes. This was exactly the reason why I'd told him I was going just before the party. If I told him yesterday, when I came home with the envelope, he might have put me on lockdown, or trashed the whole apartment.

"I'll make it out," I promised, wondering if I'd be alive long enough to remember that I promised them. "It's not like it's an execution date—"

"It might as well be!" Oliver shouted and whirled on me, eyes blazing. "You know what he uses humans for. We're all just blood bags to him!"

I took a deep breath, clenching my fists. "Calm down, Ollie." I said quietly. "No one will notice if I leave early. He's just going to make sure I arrive there."

"Isa, are you stupid? Anyone he's inviting exclusively isn't going to be allowed to leave early. We don't even know if he knows what we are. If he finds out mom has us, he'll kill all of us, and her too. Then all those years of hiding will be for nothing!"

"You're not listening," I growled out, because he was getting seriously angry, and if anyone noticed in the building, more investigating will be inevitable. "I can talk to mom. I can get her out of this crazy shit she's getting into with him!"

"It's too dangerous." Oliver shook his head. "It's not happening."

"What do you want me to do, then? Not go and let him kill me later?"

"We need to leave New Orleans. It's only gonna get worse if we stay—"

"No, Ollie. We can't leave yet. We can't leave mom here."

"She's already left us a long time ago! When are you going to see that?"

I glared at him pointedly and glanced at Alina and Daniel, who looked more confused than ever, staring at us like we were strangers.

"Mom hasn't left us," Alina snapped defiantly. "She said she's coming back for us." She turned her fierce frown on Oliver.

Oliver took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"I have my power." I said to him quietly. "I've been fine at directing away attention so far, and I'll be fine tonight."

"This is why you waited the last minute to tell me, isn't it?" Oliver glared at me. "So I couldn't stop you from going."

"You'd never be able to stop me from going." I smiled at him, trying to lighten his mood, but I felt sick at the thought of where I was about to go, what I was about to do.

"You can't leave them," Oliver leaned in to whisper to me, glancing at Alina and Daniel. "They've lost too much. They need you."

"I'm coming back," I promised him, brushing my hair from my face. I slipped into my heels, walking towards the door, pausing to hug Alina and Daniel. "I have work, guys. I'll be back soon."

"You better be back." Daniel grinned. "We're gonna have a movie night."

"I won't miss it." I grinned back at him, then paused when the doorbell rang. I shared a look with Oliver. Did Marcel send a lackey, to check if I was going? How did he know where I lived? Oliver moved toward the door, but I made it first, shoving him out of view before anyone could put together that I had family. Thankfully, the kids were too small on the couch, and it wasn't anywhere near the doorway.

I opened the door with a bright smile, remembering how much I wished we had an eyehole. A man in a suit held a large, square thing, wrapped in white silk like material.

"Isabella?" The man looked eternally bored, and I could sense that he was a vampire. Fitting.

"That's me." I stared at him coolly, not wanting to start my night off wrong. He practically shoved the package in my hand, and I felt the familiar canvas material, and the wood backing.

"Delivery for you," He muttered, and then turned and walked back down the hall, into the shadows of the flickering light. I stared after him, puzzled, then shut the door as I struggled to hold the large canvas.

"What is that?" Oliver demanded, but I ignored him, placing the canvas on the table and pulling the material away. My breath caught at the sight of the oil painting.

At first, it was a mass of colour, but I recognized the photo I had taken soon enough. It was the hummingbird, blue streaked with purple and yellow, a bright background of green and turquoise. The photo I'd taken was taped to the back of the canvas, and it fell to the floor as is slipped out the backing.

"Did you paint this?" Oliver sounded breathless, eyes wide. I decided against telling him that the photo I'd taken of it was taken by one Hybrid vampire, and today a piece of art from the photo was delivered to our doorstep with no return address. He'd probably lock me down in paranoia.

"It's—it's Allison's, from work." I pretended to be indifferent, and tossed the cloth over it again. "She probably just wants to show off her skills." I forced a laugh. "I have to go. I'll see you soon, guys."

I practically ran out the door, unable to face my family as I lied to them.

* * *

I never really drove our car anywhere, because I was always saving the gas for any time we might actually need to hightail it out of this stupid town.

Which meant I had to walk the whole way to the party, and at one point I seriously considered taking off my shoes. Of course, then I saw some drunk stumbling out of a bar, and remembered that although the cobblestones looked clean, I had no idea of what happened here before.

I told myself I wouldn't be afraid of Marcel. He could threaten me all he wanted, but it wasn't him I was afraid of—I was afraid for my family, and that was all. Nothing else mattered tonight. And I was going to see my mother, for the first time in little over a year. I had to convince her to stop trying to take down Marcel.

When I got to the place, the music was so loud I felt it in the zipper of my dress. I stared at the humans and the vampires, unable to tell the difference, as I walked through the long corridors and stared up at the stairwells, not pausing, acting as if I belonged there. The lighting was low, intimate. The music was slow and had a solid beat and all around me, vampires were indulging in the human's, and dancing, some of them making me blush and turn away, pretending I didn't see. They were celebrating.

I couldn't tell what, yet. A few of the vampires were looking my way, and I turned my power up a little higher, feeling light headed, and felt relieved when they turned away from me again, confused.

It didn't take long for her to find me. My mother swung me around and cracked my head against the brick wall, and her eyes were blood red, fangs out of her mouth. For a moment, I could only focus on the pain and the certainty that she was going to kill me.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, growling. Her human pet stood behind her, staring and confused.

My mother didn't look much like us. She was all dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin, and she looked so young people used to think of us as sisters. She also acted like she was young, too. She had quite the reputation amongst the witches, known as the party girl, the runaway-mom, the woman who would never commit to any man. Our childhoods with her had been rocky, and she was always a step away from dumping us kids on one of her friends so she could go for a holiday. I never really thought much of it—she was always my mom to me, the way she is was something I knew would never change.

"I was invited." I smiled coldly at her. She snarled and my heart thudded belatedly in fear.

"Leave. Now." She hissed. "Marcel doesn't treat sluts well—"

"We need to talk, mother." I pushed against her. Her hold released a little and she leaned closer, waiting for me to go on.

"Maria," A voice sang, coming down the stairwell with a sunny smile. Marcel. He smiled widely at us, and mom took a step back, letting me stand up against the wall. "How are you doing tonight?"

Annoyance flashed through me. Great. Now I'd never be able to talk to her without looking suspicious.

"Quite a show you gave us, Marcel." She smiled and blinked up at him as he reached us. I stared blankly at him. I had never seen him so close up before. He was handsome, and smiling. But I sensed his annoyance at her, and his eagerness for something. He looked at ease, but his shoulders were tense.

"Only the best for family." He smiled, voice smooth as honey, like she was charity or something and he was making the biggest payment of all time. His gaze switched to me, and somehow, the ever present smile became wider. "Isabella. Have you been waiting long?"

I wondered if we had spoken before. He spoke like we were friends. Like we had an appointment.

"Not at all." I said, though I'd never been waiting to see him. He smiled, then paused, eyes narrowing in the direction of the larger courtyard I'd walked through.

"Drama, drama, drama," he muttered under his breath, then took my hand in his, smiling again. "Come. I have to show you something."

He walked off, still holding my hand, forcing me to follow. Mom tugged on my hair insistently, and when I looked back at her she glared again.

I heard the growl before I could think more of how to get out of this, and then we were in the front room, and Klaus was there, holding one of Marcel's men in a choke hold and snarling, animalistic fury in his eyes. I almost shuddered. Marcel immediately stepped between them.

"Hey, hey, I'm right here! I'm right here," Marcel moved Klaus's arm gently. "Easy now. Diego's just looking out for me. Nobody harms my guys—those are the rules." Marcel smiled, trying to lighten the mood again. I wondered if Klaus could sense the negative vibe coming off him, like I could.

"I don't care about your rules, Marcel. And I don't need chaperones. Why are you having me followed." Klaus didn't make it sound like a question.

"Come here," Marcel pushed him toward me, walking forward, and looked calm. Klaus turned to look at me and I caught the surprise in his eyes before he turned his attention back to Marcel. His next words were too quiet for me to hear, but I saw Klaus's changing facial expression and Marcel's slow smile like he knew he was winning him over. Marcel turned and reached for my hand. I almost moved out of the way, before reluctantly walking toward him again. I was sick of being treated like a child, towed everywhere by him.

"Come, Isabella." Marcel led me to one of the stairwells, Klaus behind me as we walked up. I tried to calm my heart, wondering if I was walking up to my death. Why was he taking such an interest in me? Is it because of Klaus accusing me of being a witch last night?

We were met with a breeze of cool air, and Marcel let go of my hand, leaving me in the doorway and walking toward the edge of the balcony with Klaus. Goosebumps broke out along my arms, and I shivered, taking a deep breath.

"Look at that skyline. That there, that's progress." Marcel put a hand on his hip, gazing at the city like he built it himself. I never really paid much attention to the stories of how Marcel and Klaus put the city together, and I didn't care much for them either. "More hotels, more tourists, more fresh blood. And the humans, I _taught_ them to look the other way."

I felt sick, and I stared hard at the floor, trying to stop myself from snapping at him. How could he be such a heartless bastard?

"And what of the witches?" Klaus asked slowly, and I expected him to glance back at me, but he didn't. "In my time, they were a force to be reckoned with, and now they live in fear. How do you know when they're using magic?"

I went still. This was the one question we had all been asking—all the witches, for a very long time. Years. Decades, I'd say. But Marcel remained evasive.

"Maybe I have a secret weapon. An ace, up my sleeve. Something that gives me complete control over all the magic in this town." Abruptly, he turned away from the sight of the town, and brought his arm up, gesturing toward me. His eyes met mine and he smiled. "You've met Isabella, haven't you?"

"Last night." Klaus's eyes glazed over mine, like he didn't want to remember.

"Don't be afraid." Marcel smiled more, like he was coaxing a kitten out of a hole. I sneered, unable to help myself.

"I'm not afraid." I snapped, but stayed where I was. "I want to know why I'm here."

"She's feisty." Marcel chuckled, but Klaus stared flatly, unamused. Marcel stared at me again. "You're here because you're special to me, Isabella. I understand that your mother is downstairs, isn't she? Wasn't she just threatening to kill you?"

My panic soared and had me spitting out the first thing that came to mind. "Well, that's what vampires do when they don't get what they want." My words sounded sweet. I tilted my head at him. "Just like children. They throw tantrums."

It was the wrong thing to say. The atmosphere changed, like electricity crackled in the air, and it went from neutral, to negative, so badly that when Marcel took a step towards me, I took a step back, almost stumbling. His eyes were angry, but his smile was warm. I wondered how many years it had taken him to perfect that facial expression.

"You would know about children." He almost crooned, and his arm shot out to grasp my shoulder, keeping me where I was. I stumbled again, but he shook me hard, glaring. "How many are you taking care of now? Three? You got that many plots in the cemetery for them?"

"Shut up!" I snarled and shoved him, but he didn't budge. He squeezed both my shoulders hard, and I bit my cheek to keep from crying out in pain.

"Marcel." Klaus growled.

"What is your mother planning against me?" Marcel ignored Klaus.

"I don't know." I snapped, glaring and struggling to pull out of his hold. "I haven't talked to her in more than a year."

"Liar." He stated. "Tell me the truth. You know what she's planning, and I know you're a witch. Get talking."

"I don't know anything, Marcel." I pushed against him again. There was not a trace of a smile on his face, only an angry scowl. I wasn't feeling the panic anymore. I _became _the panic, in the beat of my heart, and rush of thoughts in my mind, and the way I started to kick in the air when he lifted me up, dragging me toward him. My breath was shaky. I'd always thought I'd be brave in the face of death. Maybe I had been a coward all along.

"Let me make this clear, Isabella." He growled. "You come to my party, after I generously invited you, and use magic in my home. And then you dare to lie to my face? Have you no humility?"

My panic dropped. I hated him. Anger surged, stopping me from struggling as I stared flatly.

"Not for vampires." I snarled. "Not for the man who takes lives and ruins lives for no other reason than for entertainment. Not for someone who's up so high on his horse that he can't see the snakes threatening to bite."

For a moment, he was silent, and it felt like the world went still around us as he stared at me with cold, dead eyes.

"You threaten me." He stated, almost whispering. He shoved me away from him, and I reached out behind me to grasp the wall before I could tumble down the steps. "You honestly believe you can beat me, you think one day I'll be overpowered."

"I'm counting on it! Now let go of me, you bastard!"

He did. But then his arm shot out, fast, and the back of his hand cracked across my face. I spun dizzily, almost falling to the floor, but again he hauled me up. "Respect, Isabella, isn't just something I like. It's something I enforce!"

"Marcel!" Klaus jerked Marcel's shoulder, pulling him away, but Marcel shrugged him off furiously.

He gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him. I put as much hate in my expression as I could. If he was going to kill me, I'd never beg.

"I'll give you one last chance to tell me what I want to hear."

I stared, wondering if this was a joke.

"Go to hell."

The last thing I saw was his expression, turning into one of anger, and he was snarling. There was an intense pain in my head, and the world could have turned to dust around me and I wouldn't have woken.

* * *

**Please review :) don't know if I should continue **


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up in a cold room, darkness pressing on every corner of my head, coaxing me back to sleep. Disoriented, I move my numb arms, and realized I was lying face down on the floor.

Around me was only darkness, and steel bars a few feet away. The concrete floor was cold, and unfamiliar. The whole room was cold, actually. Where was I? Where did Marcel dump me?

I took a deep breath and shakily sat up, blinking away sleep. There was one window, high up near the ceiling, and the floor outside was level with it. I was underground.

Claustrophobia introduced itself. My head spun, and the walls were closing in on me, pressing in on all directions.

"Good evening."

I jumped, whirling to face Marcel as he walked downstairs from the door. Outside the cell I was in were five more, three lining two walls. I was closest to the stairs, that led up to the main floor, probably, and on the other side, another doorway was there, but it was dark.

There was one window to each cell, and they all revealed the same little view—we were under ground.

"Rise and shine, beautiful."

Marcel was in front of my cell now, smiling at me, all traces of anger gone. The windows all revealed darkness. He must have dragged me here for the night. Was he going to kill me? Did he play with his food first?

The thought sent a feeling of utter revulsion in me, and I slowly backed away from the bars. If he tried to touch me, I'd… I didn't know what I'd do.

"Relax, sweetheart, I don't think of witches that way." He said easily. I glared at him.

"So, what? Are you gonna turn me?"

"I'm going to hold you here until you tell me what your mother's planning against me. I hadn't anticipated her children knowing magic, which really changes the situation."

"Why?" I snapped. "Are you afraid a couple of kids are gonna make a move against you and you won't be able to handle it?"

Marcel fell silent, staring at me with narrowed eyes. He crouched down, so that he was closer to me on the floor but still in front of the bars.

"Let's make this clear, Isabella. Any time you say something to me that doesn't quite _help _me; it'll be your siblings who pay the price." He paused, to smile slowly. "Perhaps I'll start with baby Alina. She's such a cutie."

"_Shut up_! I don't know _anything!" _

He went silent again, staring flatly, like he was waiting for me to calm down.

"Is Maria a good mother to you, Isabella?" Marcel asked, looking sincere for once. I was weak now—my head was pounding, and I couldn't get a good reading of his intentions or feelings. "Is that why you're loyal to her?"

My mother had never been a good mother. She'd always leave, for days at a time when Oliver was only 9 and I was only 8, Daniel only a new born. Alina hadn't even been born, but then we'd still had Lucas with us, and he'd been 12.

One time she tried to stab him. He'd spent the night out, and spent the day at a friend's, and when he came home, she immediately thought the worst and decided he was a vampire. I remembered the chaos of the house, I'd stood there screaming like an idiot, and Oliver almost got between them, and only when mom had slashed Lucas's arm open and his wound hadn't healed did she believe he wasn't a vampire.

"She was never a good mother." There were nights we'd been left on the streets, four kids and a baby, because she'd been stupid enough to forget about us or she was passed out drunk and didn't bother leaving the keys with us when we got home from school.

"But she loves you. Do you see my dilemma here?" Marcel passed a bottle of water and an apple through the bars, leaving them on the floor. I narrowed my eyes. "She loves you, and trusts you. And she trusts no one else. If there's anyone she's told about what she's planning, it would be you."

"You're wrong." I denied. "She doesn't trust me, and she definitely doesn't love me. She wouldn't have left us alone if she did, vampire or not, and even if she is loyal to you, her children are supposed to come first."

"Not before the Vampire King." He corrected. He rose up, then crossed his arms. "I can't figure your mom out, but I can figure you out." He murmured, frowning. Then, "Come in, Diego."

He'd barely said the words, but the door at the top of the stairs opened, and everyone was moving at once. Marcel moved to open the door to the cell across from me, and Diego dragged in a man bleeding in several places, and he was groaning in pain, and murmuring strange words, thrashing about.

His face turned toward me, and a choked sound escaped my throat.

"Oliver!" the bastard threw him in the cage and slammed the door shut, and Oliver slumped on the floor before jumping up and shaking the bars with a snarl.

"You bastard!" He growled. "Let her go. She doesn't know anything! Let her go!"

Marcel looked between us and smiled.

"I don't know how I never noticed the resemblance before. You could both pass for twins. Do Daniel and Alina resemble you as well?"

"Shut the hell up. Don't say their names!" Oliver was still snarling like a caged animal.

Marcel turned and walked up the stairs with Diego following close behind. We both stared up, wondering what they were doing for a moment, but then the door banged shut and it was silent, except for Oliver's rapid breathing.

"I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him."

Slowly, I turned back to him. "Oliver," my heart thudded as a thought occurred to me. "Where are the kids?"

"Isabella…"

"Tell me!" I stood, ignoring the ache in my legs. "Where _are they?"_

"They're asleep. One of his lackey's knocked me out in an alley after beating me up. They brought me here."

"Where are we? We have to get out. What if he takes them?"

I pressed my face into the bars and reached through them, seeing what kind of lock had been used. I didn't have any weapons on me, except for a tiny butterfly knife folded in my bra. It was too thin and useless to do anything, and I needed something else to help me pick the lock. He'd already taken the pins out of my hair.

I stared at the apple and the water bottle. Both useless, but still, I chugged half the water down and tossed the apple and the rest of the water to Oliver. He took both, and he slumped against his mattress and stared into space, like he always did when he was thinking hard—

Wait. The mattress.

I whirled around to see my own, covered in dark stains I didn't want to think about. I tested it with my foot, feeling the springs compact. Perfect.

I heaved it over so it was against the wall, took out the butterfly knife and stabbed it into the mattress. Oliver began to cough violently, providing a good cover for the big tearing sound I made in ripping the mattress. He understood what I was doing, and stayed silent, while I pulled hard on a spring and it came free, but it was rusted. Uncaring of any kind of disease, I pulled on both ends, straightening it out, then flipped the mattress on its good side again.

I'd picked very few locks before. When Lucas was old enough and we were locked out of the house, he'd taught me the difference between the tension wrench and the lock pick, and what to do with each.

Having neither right now, I'd have to make do with the knife and spring, the spring as my pick and the knife as my wrench.

Putting my hands through the bars, I took the make shift lock picks and somehow managed to get them into the keyhole without seeing what I was doing. It was easier to close my eyes, and imagining what I was doing.

Four pins. That made it considerably easier. For a minute, there was only the sound of our quiet, tense breathing.

When the door pushed open, it creaked horribly, loud and long. I lunged to stop it from swinging, and Oliver had already started to cough again. I hoped they wouldn't investigate further.

Already out, I slipped off my heels and tossed them to the mattress, and set to pick the Oliver's lock. I don't know how we'd face anyone else, but we had to try. We couldn't sit here for the night while my brother and sister slept at home alone, unprotected.

"Hurry." Oliver hissed, standing up now. The lock was easier to pick when I could see it this time, and eventually the door opened the same way, minus the creak.

"Let's go." We both crept out this time, and I rushed down to the other door to see what was inside it first.

A bathroom, tiny, with a sink and a toilet. Not much that could help us.

Oliver was already climbing up the stairs, and I followed—and stumbled hard when the door creaked open and Marcel stood in the doorway.

"Well, they're smarter than I thought." He was all laughter and smiles. Oliver pushed me back gently, as if being cornered in the basement would be better.

He kept walking down, Oliver going backwards as well, until we were in front of our old cells again.

"Tell me. How'd you get out? Neither of you had weapons, or keys."

We stayed silent, like two children who'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Slowly, Oliver took my hand, like we were about to run.

Abruptly, Marcel's hands shot out and held Oliver's neck in a choke hold. His hand tore from mine. I choked gasp escaped me.

"Stop, stop!" I screamed and pushed on his hands. His other arm pushed me out of the way, and his vampire strength was something I hadn't anticipated. My face slammed into the bars and stars erupted behind my eyes, making me gasp as I tried to get my vision back.

"Tell me what your mother is planning _now." _Marcel's voice was low. "_Now!" _He roared. "Or I'll kill him!"

"I don't know!" I shouted. "I don't know anything! I would tell you, I swear—"

The next sound I heard would haunt me forever. Some sounds you hear and you never forget. Wind howling, a car horn. A neck snapping, like a branch off a tree. The sound of your brother's death. I think I was stumbling backwards. I think I was screaming. I touched my lips to make sure, and yes, my mouth was open, like the time my mother stabbed Lucas. Was it done? Was he dead?

His body was limp on the floor, dead blue eyes staring at me. I shook him, his limp arms, and he moved like a stuffed doll. Someone was making a sound like a dying cat, hoarse and crying out.

"Ollie,"

"_Get up." _I was dragged up by my arms and I faced the man who just killed my brother. "Do you think this is a game now? Do you think you can hide now?"

"Shut up!" I screamed at him and thrashed, a wild animal, kicking and punching. He dragged me back into the cell, threw me inside, and slammed the door shut, locking it again with the key.

"Do you want that to be Daniel?" The man gestured to Ollie on the floor, and the idea that he was threatening my baby brother, and that I'd never hear Ollie again, sent me sobbing and breathing hard. "Tell me what your mother is planning."

"I—I don't—" I was crying so hard I couldn't get the words out.

"Think about it." Marcel kicked my lock picks far, and walked out. The door slammed above, leaving me to stare at the body of my dead brother.

* * *

I screamed for a long time. Most of the night, I think. My voice was hoarse by the time I stopped, and I knew Marcel was up there, hearing every one of my words, my threats to him.

There was nothing left for me to do. My power was out of reach, and it was useless in this kind of situation. I knew no spells, I couldn't start fire with the wave of my hand, and I couldn't cause a brain aneurysm to anyone, except maybe myself, if I kept screaming.

I wished, for the first time, my mother had taught me magic.

My lock picks were by the stairs, too far for me to reach. There was nothing I could do but stare at my brother. For so long I hadn't worried about what might happen to me because I knew he'd be there to take care of Alina and Daniel. For so long I'd thought that it would be okay without mom and Lucas if we had each other. How could we have lost so much by living in a place we'd lived all our lives? What changed in these past few years?

How could Marcel just leave a dead body on the floor like that?

Why did my mom have to get us into this mess?

At some point, the door at the top of the stairs opened so harshly it fell off the hinges, and tumbled down the steps loudly. I ignored the sound. Perhaps I shouldn't have ignored the sound.

Because it wasn't Marcel at the top of the stairs. It was Klaus.

* * *

"Get up." He stopped in front of my cell, slammed the key in the lock and dragged the door open. He offered a hand. I didn't want to touch a vampire. Never again. I pushed past him to lean next to Ollie's body. "Come on." He said impatiently.

"Save him." I stared up at him and he stared down at Oliver like he just noticed. His eyes widened. "I know you can save him! I've seen vampires do it before!"

He winced, then crouched down and gingerly poked at Oliver's neck. Oliver's head turned limply. I choked out a gasp.

"I can't."

"Yes you can!" I screamed and shoved him hard. I'd seen vampires save humans! I'd seen them feed them their blood and heal them! "Give him your blood!"

"I can't." He said in a hard voice. "It's too late."

"No it's not." I shook my head and glared at him. "Save him."

"Look at me!" He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Any blood I feed him isn't going to work, because he can't swallow. Even then, his heart would have to be beating so the healing properties can work."

"No…"

"Yes." He nodded exaggeratedly. "Now we have to go."

"I can't leave him!" I gripped Oliver's hand. He was cold. Freezing. With a growl, Klaus stood, then hauled the Ollie up over his shoulder and took my hand. We stepped over the door and up the stairs, Klaus always whispering to me, telling me it wasn't far, that we'd get to my place soon. That we'd have to take care of my siblings.

As we walked hurriedly, a choked laugh escaped me. Was it hours ago that I'd thought the floor was too dirty to walk with bare feet? And now I was doing just that.

At some point, my mother was in front of me. She'd fallen from the sky. We both pulled up short.

"Oliver." Her voice was strangled and she reached toward him.

"Don't touch him!" I pushed her back. She stumbled hard into the brick wall. "It's your fault. You did this!"

She snarled at me and lunged, but Klaus's arm shot out to stop her. She shrank back in horror at the sight of him, eyes wide in fear.

"I'm sorry." She apologized to him and winced, as if waiting for him to punish her. He didn't—he continued to drag me through the streets, not looking back.

I think we went through the back streets, through alleyways, because no one ever asked about us. Eventually, he pushed me to climb the stairs in front of him, and I recognized the hideous crayon drawing Daniel had made in our corridor when he was six. Klaus crushed the lock in his palm and swung the door open to reveal the faces of my crying brother and sister.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Alina was the one who gasped and charged forward, throwing her arms around my waist.

"What happened?" She demanded, then pulled away and glared at Klaus. She crossed her tiny arms, frowning. "Put my brother down!" She snapped.

Daniel, who was only just 8, seemed to understand what happened. He shook his head, eyes wide but dry.

"No."

"Daniel—"

"What happened? Are you joking right now?"

"What's going on?" Alina took a step away from me and stared up, stricken. "What's wrong with Ollie?"

"He's—he's—"

"He's like Lucas, Alina." Daniel took Alina's hand and pulled her away from me. "He's not coming back."

"What did you do?" Alina stared at me like I'd personally killed him. "What have you done?"

"Alina—"

"Don't touch me!" She screamed and snatched her hand away from Daniel. "Don't look at me!"

Tears were running down her tiny face. She whirled and charged away from us, then snatched the clock from the mantel piece and hurled it at me.

I didn't even duck. I didn't care. The reason I'd come back with Klaus was for them and they didn't want me to be here.

Klaus's arm shot out to catch the clock in the air. Alina screamed at him.

"Stop touching him! Let him go!"

She lunged toward him as if she could bring her down with her fists only. In a split second, he was crouched down, my brother's still body still on his shoulder. His arms went up grasping her forearms.

"Look at me, Alina."

"NO! Lea—"

"Calm down." He soothed. "Calm down,"

I realized what he was doing too late. He was compelling her. Slowly, her eyes shut and when they opened, they were clear. Without a trace of anger on her face, or fear, or grief.

"Put my brother down." Alina said calmly.

"What did you do to her?" Daniel charged forward—I caught him and struggled to hold him back from Klaus.

"It's alright, Daniel." My common sense came back and I used my power to direct his suspicion away from Klaus and I. He stared, dazed for a moment, before narrowing his eyes.

"We need to leave." Klaus stood and gave me a meaningful look. "Get your things."

"What?" I couldn't have been more shocked. "What are you talking about?"

I'd decided that I would deal with my debt to him for saving me later on. My top priority had been Alina and Daniel—if he wanted me to pay him back for saving me, he could come see me later. I wasn't about to become a Hybrid's bitch because I didn't have anything else left.

Klaus gave me a very patient look, like he was dealing with another child right now.

"Marcel knows where you live, and he knows about your family. He's not going to let you get away with escaping, and he's going to hunt me down soon enough, so pack your things."

"He's coming back?" My heart kick started and I broke out into a cold sweat despite the temperature. "We need to leave!"

"Relax." Klaus snapped through gritted teeth. "I've… slowed him down for the night." He grimaced. "But we need to hurry. He might send one of his lackeys."

"Would anyone _want _to face you right now?" I remembered my mother's shocked and terrified look at the sight of him. I hadn't known people feared him so much.

Klaus's expression drained away to nothing, and he stared flatly at me, as if waiting for me to go on. I wondered how many people had spoken to death when he looked at them like that. Something about that stare made me want to keep talking, perhaps to direct his attention away from thinking of how he wanted to kill me.

"No." He continued to glare at me. "And that's why I'm your best bet at getting out of this place. Hurry up."

I didn't need to be told again.

* * *

"What are you trying to prove?"

The raised voices jolted me out of my sleep. I sat up in the bed, tugging off the blanket, clear headed for once. Usually, my dreams got tangled up in reality and it took me ages to get out of bed. It was still dark outside, I could tell through the window of Klaus's apartment—if it was even his.

I realized I had slept too long. The idea was to get Daniel and Alina to sleep, not fall asleep with them. They were both snoring softly in the dark, on either side of me. I pushed Daniel away and climbed to the edge of the bed, shrugging into the black coat Klaus must have left in the room.

"She's awake." Klaus's voice drifted softly into the room. I rolled my eyes and swung the door open, seeing as they both knew.

"What?" I demanded of them both.

Klaus stood in front of the other man, arms braced against the kitchen bench, head tilted down and glaring up at the suited guy. It was a shockingly human pose—for a moment, I stared, before glancing at the other man. He was tall, and brown haired, and very meticulous about his appearance, if the suit was any indication. He stared at me like one would stare at a science experiment, wondering if it was worth the trouble or not.

"What do you know about Marcel's insiders?" the man demanded right back at me. I think I managed to look dumbfounded, because Klaus sighed with closed eyes and glared at the man before turning back to me.

"This is Elijah, my brother."

"Elder brother," Elijah added. His accent was more refined than Klaus's—English, and cut short, not drawling like Klaus's words were.

He touched at one of the vases that lined the table beside him. They were filled with flowers. I wanted to burn them.

"What did you do with the body?" I ignored Elijah and stared Klaus down. His eyes shifted to the couch, where my brother was, covering in the same white silk like material that the painting had been in just hours before. When I couldn't face Oliver after lying to him.

For some reason, the silk brought more tears to my eyes than the idea of his body swathed in it. He'd pulled off the same material off that painting, stared at me while I lied to him.

"It was you who sent that painting." I looked back at Klaus. "The hummingbird."

Klaus only stared. Rage crept up on me like an old friend. I seized up the vase and hurled it at him. He moved, almost imperceptibly, and it shattered into the kitchen cabinet.

"You bastard!" I screamed at him, and hurled the next vase, and the next one, until there were no more stupid vases left, and there were only stupid tears rolling down my cheeks.

I turned away from him, hating how they stared at me like they'd never seen tears. They didn't know what it was like to mourn family. I shouted that at them too.

Their reaction was stranger than I'd expected. Elijah's face hardened and Klaus's stare went flat.

"What are you so angry at us?" Klaus's words were barely raised, but they made me choke almost, a sob or something like that. My last words to my brother were lies. And it was his fault. That's why I was angry.

"Because if it weren't for you, I'd have a home right now!" I shouted at him, thinking of how true it was now. "If you never came to this wretched place and turned Marcel, we would all have homes. We would all have lives, and I wouldn't have had to watch my brothers die and my mother become a vampire! Don't you get it?"

Elijah looked at Klaus like he was embarrassed to be here, and Klaus continued to stare at me.

"Then help me fix the mess I've made here."

"What?" I breathed. I stared at him. "Is this a joke to you?"

"No jokes here." Klaus raised his hands and took a step out of the kitchen, shoes crunching on the glass. "I'll make this better. I'll get rid of Marcel."

My jaw dropped.

"You can't get rid of him." I snapped. "The people here need a leader to take his place, or we'll have the US army knocking on our doors to blow us up for all the massacres these vamps will cause! You can't just get rid of Marcel!"

"_I practically made that boy who he is now." _Klaus growled and glared at me. "I'm perfectly capable of ending him."

"You're not understanding me!" I wished for another vase to throw at him. "He has a family. A very _loyal _family. They won't let you _near _him!"

Klaus paused, considering my words. I stared in astonishment. Was he actually _listening _to what I was saying?

"I'll gain their trust, and then I'll end him. I'll lead this place."

Hysterical laughter bubbled from my lips. "If you made Marcel, I don't want to know what your leadership qualities are." Klaus shrugged.

"Times change. People change."

I decided in that moment he was nuts. Batshit crazy. Brain dead. I said as much and he laughed, tilting his head back like we were out for a coffee.

I wondered if my night could get any worse. I'd managed to see my mom, listen to her threaten me, almost die, watched my brother die, and I saw my siblings have mental break downs. Oh, and I was standing in the Original vampire's lounge, listening to him deliver a great speech about how he wanted to change New Orleans.

"Are you crazy?" I whispered.

"Just a little." Elijah stared at Klaus with a little disdain. "For now, our sole idea is to gain Marcel's trust again, which could prove to be a little difficult considering what Niklaus did tonight."

Niklaus…? Klaus glared at Elijah. Niklaus must have been his full name.

"It'll be easy enough. I'll heal him, grovel a little, and be back in Marcel's good graces."

I turned away, running my hands through my hair. There was a pulse behind my eyes, a headache growing so strong my vision blurred. That stupid lump was back in my throat. I wondered what Ollie would do right now.

Hell, if Ollie was alive, we wouldn't be in this situation.

"What did you do?" I turned back to the brothers.

"I bit one of his lackeys." Klaus said without hesitation. "He'll be dead by tomorrow unless I heal him."

"But… he's a vampire. Shouldn't he heal?"

"Werewolf bites don't heal." Elijah explained. "Not without Klaus's blood."

I felt sick, for the millionth time that night.

"Okay." I swallowed sharply. "Well, he's going to take revenge on all of us—"

"You sound like he's strangling you right now," Klaus said impatiently. "Did you not hear me? I'm going to heal him—"

"He's not going to forgive and forget. He's just going to be angry that you put him in that position in the first place. You're fooling yourself if you think he's going to welcome you back."

"That's where you're wrong, witch. He will forgive, but never forget—I showed him who has the power, and he's not going to make me the villain again. It will ultimately be him who tries to gain my forgiveness."

"Marcel is wild and unpredictable." I found myself saying.

"I know him just fine," Klaus paused, then smiled in a suggestive way and said, "I can be wild and unpredictable too."

A shiver went down my spine. Elijah scoffed.

"Clearly, brother."

I didn't want to listen anymore, even if everything he was saying made sense. It was too much to take in, and I knew what he was really asking. I knew why he was really bothering to save me and keep my siblings safe and talk to me about what he planned.

I knew that I was part of his plans. He planned on using me to get to Marcel. He wanted to take Marcel's kingdom.

* * *

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